


I Can Feel All My Bones Coming Back and I'm Craving Motion

by Elmers_glue



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Higher Vampire Jaskier | Dandelion, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, no one is happy in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elmers_glue/pseuds/Elmers_glue
Summary: Geralt returns from the path with a 16-year-old Ciri, seeming perfectly fine, but after a prank from Lambert and Aiden, everything is in fact, not fine at all.Title from Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Eskel & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	1. spoiler alert: witchers have feelings

**Author's Note:**

> chapter title and a good portion of the ideas come from @suddenly_im_respecsable

“Lambert, when I get my fucking hands on you I swear to fucking Metitele I’ll break your-”   
CRASH!  
Geralt stumbled back from the doorway, covered in the red dye that had been in the bucket he’d crashed into. Lambert swore loudly and ran faster. Surely Geralt would kill him and Aiden for this one. They were in the midst of a prank war of sorts, the winters at Kaer Morhen were long and boring, and Lambert had proposed they fuck with his brothers. Aiden agreed because he also had a penchant for that certain kind of chaos, and shortly after they started to set up pranks for Geralt and Eskel. Geralt had been running towards Lambert because he woke up with Lil Bleater in his bed, and Geralt was not quite as fond of goats as Eskel was. That lead to where they were now, with Geralt running into the bucket that Aiden had made to spill on whoever opened the door. The bucket wasn’t meant to actually hit him, but unfortunately, both Aiden and Lambert’s math skills were lacking and they just took a wild guess.

Geralt stayed on the floor for a minute, the bucket had been made from witcher grade steel, and the dye made it quite a bit heavier. He groaned when he sat up, and wiped the dye out of his eyes. It was the same type Eskel used to dye his shirts, and that shit was permanent. He looked at the hand he used to wipe the dye off; it was a darker red than the rest of him. He stared, confused, for a moment. Then, he promptly passed out. This wasn’t Geralt’s first head injury, this wasn’t even his worst head injury; but he was weaker this year than usual, the path was hard, and traveling with a 16-year-old girl made things even worse. He had only arrived at Kaer Morhen a week ago and hadn’t really settled in yet, and he was dealing with a previous leg and shoulder injury after fighting a Bruxa, which caused him excruciating pain constantly, and honestly, he should have been walking with a cane or something at this point. However, he didn’t want to seem weak or lacking to his family in which he had always been considered the strongest, he had refused to start. So, he really wasn’t in good shape, to begin with. The bucket on his head was just the cherry on top of his year. He lay there unconscious for quite some time until he felt someone shake his shoulder. It was Ciri, who had been looking for him after he blew off their training together. 

He groaned and moved his head to the side. He had a blinding headache and when he opened his eyes he cursed loudly and looked up at Ciri.  
“I thought you were dead! What the fuck happened?” Her voice was loud and frantic, and if he wasn’t half-conscious, he would’ve told her to mind her language. 

“Shhhhh.” He tried to shush her with his hand, but it felt heavy and everything went a little swirly for a moment before he gave up. 

“Geralt, what happened?” Ciri asked again, still concerned but with a much quieter voice. Geralt opened his mouth to respond but when he tried to get the words out, he passed out again.   
Geralt woke up later in a dark room. It wasn’t his room, he noticed, but either Eskel’s or Lambert’s. He was too tired to tell whose it was.   
“Thank Metitele you’re up.” That was Eskel, so Geralt assumed it was his room they were in. “Were you going to tell us about your leg and shoulder, or were you just going to continue fucking it up?”   
Eskel sounded mad. That wasn’t good, Eskel never got mad. Geralt whined and reached for him, his eyes now closed because opening them hurt too much. He felt a hand around his good arm, and when he tried to use his other arm to grab hold of Eskel, he realized it was in a sling on his chest. He growled and tried to move it out. Geralt wanted a hug, dammit. He heard Eskel sigh and get up, and the hand on his arm moved. He heard the sounds of a chair being moved, and he groaned when it was put down. It was too damn loud. He heard Eskel apologize quietly, then he was pulled into a gentle hug.   
“Mmm. Jaskier gives better hugs.” Geralt tried to say, but it just sounded like nonsense to Eskel.  
“What?”  
“Jaskier gives better hugs.” Geralt repeated himself, and this time Eskel only made out the word Jaskier.  
“Jaskier isn't here, Geralt,” Eskel responded, thinking Geralt was mistaking him for Jaskier. This turned out to be the wrong thing to say, because as soon as he said that, Geralt let out a choked sob. Eskel swore under his breath.  
“What’s wrong?” He asked gently, hoping to not cause Geralt any more pain. He hadn’t seen Geralt cry since the winter after Blaviken when he found Geralt standing on one of the outer walls, completely out of his mind in grief. He had convinced Geralt to come down and had sat with him for hours in the freezing cold to make sure he wouldn’t jump. Now, Geralt lay in Eskel’s bed, sweaty and sick with a fever after hiding what seemed to be pretty severe injuries, along with a nasty head wound. Eskel would kill Lambert and Aiden after Geralt recovered. If he recovered. Geralt’s raspy response broke him out of his thoughts.  
“It’s my fault.”   
“Pardon? This is Lambert and his boyfriend’s fault. Not yours.”  
“Jaskier isn't here.”  
“Yeah...he’s not. He’s never been here, why would he?”  
“I sent him away. It’s all my fault.” Geralt sniffed, and moved his head, accidentally wiping snot into Eskel’s tunic.   
“You sent him away? Why?”  
“I fucked up. Yen left, then I just...made him leave.”  
Eskel felt tears fall on his shoulder and Geralt began to shake with sobs.   
“I was so mean. He deserved better. He didn’t deserve me or those things. He’s just so wonderful. He’s so kind and so so pretty. Have you seen his eyes? Eskel, they are like… like..a butterfly... But like... Blue..” Geralt was still sobbing throughout all of this, making what he said almost impossible to understand.  
“He’s so kind and so nice to me. He would stab people for me, and he just- he just is so beautiful. All the time. I don’t deserve him, Eskel. I shoulda just jumped off that damn mountain after I said that. I told him he made my life worse! He was the only good thing about the path for 20 years and I fucked it up. He could die before I see him again, he should be like,” Geralt did some quick mental math. “Sixty! I left him on a mountain alone and he coulda been killed by anything. What if I killed him Eskel? What if he’s dead and it’s my fault?” He began sobbing harder now, and Eskel awkwardly rubbed his back, avoiding touching his shoulder.   
“I doubt it’s your fault-” Eskel began before Geralt interrupted him.  
“You know how I fucked up my leg and shoulder?”   
“No, I-”  
“I was fighting a bruxa in some fucking old ass house, and fucking-” He whimpered, and Eskel realized he had put pressure on Geralt’s shoulder in their hug. “I fucking just let it attack me. I put down my sword and just let it push me out the fucking window. I woke up with some elves and they wouldn’t let me die. When I could walk they let me go, and I went to get Ciri at the temple before here. It hurts so goddamn much. But I deserve it. I killed Jaskier, and I hurt Yen, and I fucking deserve this. Whenever I pick up my swords it fucking hurts so fucking much and sometimes I can’t do it. I can’t pick up my swords. What kind of witcher am I? I hurt people, I’m a fucking murderer, a butcher, and I can’t even lift my swords half the time.”   
“Geralt…” Eskel started, but he found himself with nothing to say. What happened on that mountain? What had he done to the bard that had caused him to go into such a pit of self-hatred? He sat there for what felt like hours while Geralt sobbed on his shoulder. When Geralt fell back asleep, he gently let go of him and set him on his back. He stood up quietly and left the room. He needed to act fast, as he didn’t trust Geralt to be alone, and certainly didn’t trust Aiden or Lambert to be with him. Ciri was out trying to find Vesemir on his hunt so she could bring him back to help. There was only one person who could really help ease Geralt’s mind right now. Eskel walked into Geralt’s room and found the xenovox that Geralt had to speak to Yennefer. He picked up and prayed that Yennefer would answer him. When she did, Eskel thanked Metitele silently.  
“Geralt, I told you not to contact me!”   
“Uh-It’s not Geralt…” Eskel said, hoping Yennefer wouldn’t cut the connection.  
“Eskel? Why do you have Geralt’s xenovox?”  
“We need your help. Geralt’s very badly injured.”  
“And you’re telling this for what reason? I’m shit at healing. You know this.”  
“We need you to get the bard. Geralt’s out of his mind, and I need someone who understands how his mind works other than me here.”  
“He’s out of his mind?”  
“Lambert and Aiden tried to prank him, and nearly killed him in the process.”  
“Who the hell is Aiden?”  
“Lambert’s Cat witcher boyfriend. Geralt fucked up his shoulder in getting Ciri from the temple and bringing her to Kaer Morhen. He’s in constant pain, and for some reason, he thinks he deserves it. I don’t have a lot of time to discuss this over xenovox. If he wakes up, I have reason to believe he’ll fucking kill himself.”  
“Fine. I’ll portal myself and the bard. If he agrees. Good luck with him.”  
“Thank you.” Eskel waited for a response and after receiving none, he figured Yennefer had already gone to search for Jaskier. He walked back to his room to check on Geralt, to find him in deep sleep. Eskel guessed he wouldn’t be up for several hours, and decided to see what Lambert and Aiden were up to. The first spot he checked was Lambert’s room, and on finding his room empty, he went to check by the main fireplace. They sat there, Lambert holding Aiden with a tenderness that he had never seen Lambert use before. He could hear bits of their conversation. Lambert was comforting Aiden about their prank gone wrong. He could hear Lambert blame himself for the idea. It felt wrong to listen to their conversation. Lambert was so damn kind to Aiden, and Eskel realized there was a bundle of things by them, and Lambert was in his traveling boots. They were going to leave, and the thought made Eskel feel sick. He heard something thud, and he realized no one had been fixing the roof due to bad weather. He sighed and turned to fix whatever had fallen. Then, he heard a scream from his room. Geralt was awake. Eskel ran to the room, but when he was just about to open the door, he heard the main doors close. He looked over to the fireplace, and Lambert and Aiden were gone. He prayed that they were just going on a hunt, and opened the door. 

Geralt was twisting and turning in the bed, his sling coming undone, and it seemed to Eskel that he had rolled onto it with his desperation to get away from what he was running from in his dream. It was twisted weirdly, and without thinking, Eskel formed the sign axii to make him calm down, and thankfully, he did and fell back into a deep sleep. Eskel hoped he’d stay that way and went to put on his traveling boots and cloak, hoping he could find Aiden and Lambert before they were too far for him to find while being there for Geralt. 

He ran out of the main section of the fortress, cloak trailing behind him, and looked for their footprints in the snow. Once he found a trail, he followed it until he found the two by the stables. Eskel sprinted to them, and once he was there he stood, just watching them until Aiden noticed him.   
“What the fuck are you doing?!” He yelled. Lambert snapped his head back to see him. Eskel was brimming with anger. “Are you fucking leaving me behind to take care of Geralt alone? What the fuck do you think you are doing?!”   
Lambert stepped forward to try and explain, but before he could say anything, Eskel punched him. He staggered back, holding his already bleeding nose.   
“Don’t you try and explain yourselves. You’ve done enough, and if you even think if pulling this sort of shit again I’ll fucking kill each of you where you stand. If you want to help, fucking help fix this hellhole. The roof’s crumbling in again, and I cannot fucking deal with all this shit at once. I’m dealing with enough right now. I should be in there, making sure Geralt doesn’t fucking jump out of his window, not making sure you two idiots aren’t going to fuck up everything else. Lambert, I really sometimes wonder why the hell you haven’t died on the path yet because some of the decisions you’ve been making are so fucking stupid, and Aiden? I don’t know shit about you, but you’re really proving the reputations about cat witchers correct!-”

“Don’t you dare talk about Aiden like that.” Lambert interrupted Eskel’s tirade angrily and went to punch Eskel, but Eskel blocked him and Lambert found himself with his back to the stables with a knife at his throat.   
“Don’t you fucking dare try that shit. It’s true. He’s come to our house and along with his arrival brought nothing but destruction. Someone needs to fucking say it. Both of you are acting like such brats and I have half a mind to lock you in the fucking stables so we don’t have to deal with you two.” Eskel took a deep breath and released Lambert, who crumpled to the ground. He turned around and started walking back to his room to check on Geralt. 

When he got there, he opened the door to find Geralt on the ground, his face screwed up in agony. Eskel stood there in shock for a moment, before going to Geralt’s side. He was crying again, barely conscious, and Eskel felt like puking for a moment. What the hell was he supposed to do? He was a witcher, not a healer, and without any real knowledge of what to do, he picked Geralt up and put him back on the bed. Geralt sat with his legs dangling off the side, slumped over, and Eskel could tell that he was the only thing holding Geralt up. He maneuvered Geralt so his head was on his lap, and after sitting there in silence for what felt like hours, Eskel felt Geralt fall asleep. He sat there for hours staring at the wall in front of him before he heard footsteps to the door. The door opened, and a young-looking man in a bright blue doublet stepped in followed by Yennefer.  
“Shh,” Eskel said quietly so they wouldn’t wake Geralt. “You’re Jaskier, correct?”   
The man, Jaskier, nodded and stepped forward. “What the fuck happened?”  
“He got injured and didn’t care enough to seek any sort of medical help for himself, and I only learned this because he got stuck in a prank gone wrong. I think he’s losing it, and I can’t do anything on my own. Vesemir is on a hunt, and Ciri’s trying to find him, and Lambert and Aiden are fucking idiots. Kaer Morhen is literally crumbling, and I can’t do anything to fix it because I have to make sure Geralt doesn’t fucking pitch himself off the roof.”  
“Sweet Metitele…” Jaskier looked horrified. “What are his injuries? What did he do?”  
“From what he’s told me, he got a contract with a bruxa and just let it attack him. He fell out of a window and fucked up his shoulder and leg badly. He woke up under the care of elves and as soon as he could walk he left. He didn’t do anything to take care of his injuries, and I’m assuming Ciri didn’t know because this was before he got her from the temple. He can’t pick up his sword, and he can’t walk without being in pain. He thinks he deserves it and I can’t do anything to help him. He kept asking about you while he was out, Jaskier. He blames himself for whatever happened at the mountain. He thinks all this pain is what he deserves after hurting both of you. I don’t know what he did, but whatever it was he’s sorry. Please help him.”  
“I agreed to come, didn’t I? I’m here to help him. I’ve long since forgiven him, and I think after you’ve loved someone for 22 years you can’t help it.”   
“You love him?”  
“I followed him for a third of my life. I’d be a fool not to.”   
“You don’t look sixty.” Eskel narrowed his eyes at Jaskier, not quite believing him despite Geralt saying the same thing earlier.  
“That’s fair. I also don’t look like a vampire, but here we are.” Jaskier walked closer to Eskel and kneeled so he was about at the same level as Geralt. “He’s waking up.”  
Geralt sat up quickly, and pushed away from Eskel, accidentally slapping him in the process. Jaskier leapt up and held him by his good shoulder so he wouldn’t fall or hit anyone else.   
“Geralt? Geralt! It’s Jaskier.”   
Recognition flashed in Geralt’s eyes and Jaskier cupped his cheek with his other hand to hold him steady. Geralt leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Jaskier sighed and when he was sure Geralt wasn’t about to topple over, he moved his hands to the back of Geralt’s head and back and carefully hugged him, mindful of Geralt’s arm in the sling. Geralt’s good hand stayed by his side. Jaskier heard Geralt’s breath hitch before he started to cry into Jaskier’s shoulder.   
“I’m-I’m sorry. I was wrong. You-you-”  
“Geralt.” Jaskier spoke, softly, “I forgive you.”


	2. vote now on your bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's here and uh oh! Surgery. 
> 
> Again, thanks @suddenly-im-respecsable for the chapter name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic injury definitely apply here, as well as a lot of self-hatred, and a minor panic attack

“You shouldn’t.” Geralt’s voice was soft. “I’m bad. You know this.”  
“You’re not bad, Geralt. I forgive you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Jaskier pulled back from the hug and realized both Eskel and Yennefer had left them alone. “You are a good man.”  
“I am no man. I am a murderer.”  
“Geralt-”  
“I’ve killed more men than you’ve slept with, bard.”  
“And I haven’t? You know what I am, love.” The pet name slipped out like a breath of smoke. Jaskier sat next to him, an arm around his shoulder. Geralt tried to move away, but winced in pain and allowed Jaskier to bring him back.  
“You are a kind man, Jaskier, and deserve much more than a butcher to love.”  
“I am no man, Geralt. As you are no butcher or monster, nor any other epithet men bestow upon you. You are loved and deserve to be loved.”  
“I don’t deserve your fancy words bard.”  
“Then what do you deserve, dearheart?”  
“Pain. Death. Whichever finds me quicker.”  
“You cannot mean that,” Jaskier said, heart quickening. “You do not deserve any of that. Those are lies, please believe me when I say this.”  
“How can you say such things when I have hurt you worse than I could ever hurt? I deserve this pain. I deserve to throw myself out of that fucking window for what I’ve done.”  
“You’ve made mistakes like any other man-”  
“For 22 years I ridiculed you and mocked you. I ruined your reputation and your family’s love, only to blame you for every bad thing that’s happened in my life!” Geralt’s voice grew louder and louder, and it hurt his head to yell, but he deserved it, he deserved the pain and this suffering he knew he wouldn’t be free from, even when he healed. “I’ve looked past at all my mistakes enough to know the only cause was from me! I am the murderer that you fear when we walk through the towns and cities, I am the butcher that will leave you dripping with blood in the street. I will slit your throat one day, bard, and I will live another day because there is no lesser evil. I am the evil that lurks in your songs, and I’m the villain that you sing about-”  
Geralt stopped speaking and stared at him for a minute before falling forward, and just before he hit his head on the ground, it went black. He thought he heard someone calling for help. 

Jaskier screamed and grabbed Geralt before he hit the ground. Moments later, he heard footsteps and Eskel ran back in. He was half-dressed, and Jaskier assumed he was just about to go to the hot springs.  
“What happened?”  
“He passed out. He was yelling about how he deserved to die and he thinks he’s a monster. He nearly smashed his head on the ground.”  
“He needs to lie back down. Triss is here to help him, and Yennefer is helping her.” Eskel was silent for a minute. “I think I’m going to be sick.”  
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to help.”  
“My chest is tight and I can’t breathe. I think I’m shaking. I don’t know what’s happening.”  
“Eskel.” Jaskier stood up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re having a panic attack.”  
“What?”  
“Sit down. I’m honestly not surprised, I’m sure this has been quite a shitty day.”  
“Jaskier. I think I’m going to be sick.”  
“Sit down and put your back to the wall. It’ll help ground you.”  
“Jaskier. I’m going to be sick.”  
“Eskel, please sit down.”  
Eskel sat down and put his back to the wall.  
“Better?” Jaskier asked quietly. “Now breathe, and keep breathing. Feel free to meditate. I’ll let you know if I need you for anything. You need a minute.”  
Eskel got on his knees and got into the same position Jaskier had seen Geralt get into when he was meditating. Jaskier waited for a moment before getting up and leaving to see what Yennefer and Triss were doing. He walked into the main hall, past the fireplace where Lambert and Aiden were talking, and greeted Yennefer and Triss. He and Yennefer had gotten along quite well after the mountain, and from what he had known about Triss he liked her quite a bit. They were sitting at a table covered in books, and upon his arrival Yennefer faced him and stood up.  
“Bard.”  
“Witch.”  
“Why aren’t you with Geralt?” Yennefer asked, putting down the book she had been holding.  
“He’s sleeping.”  
“Where’s Eskel?” Triss asked. “He went up because he heard yelling.”  
“He’s mediating. The stress caught up on him, but he’s in the same room as Geralt so if something happens he’ll be there.”  
“How is Geralt? Eskel wasn’t very descriptive when he told us what happened.” Yennefer walked around the table to pick up a glass of wine. “All he said was that he screwed up his shoulder and leg, and something about losing his mind. We were doing research to see what we could do to fix his mental state.”  
“He’s not insane. He’s delirious.”  
“Eskel said he was worried about Geralt killing himself.”  
“With Geralt that always feels like a concern.” Jaskier chuckled humorlessly. “He thinks he deserves it.”  
Triss frowned. “He doesn’t.”  
“That’s not what he thinks. The reason why his shoulder and leg got hurt is because he was attacked by a bruxa and fell out a window. He was found by some elves, and as soon as he could walk he left to find Ciri. I don’t think anything healed right.”  
“That’s what I assumed,” Yennefer said. “Which is why Triss is here, and speaking of which, we really should see what sort of condition he’s in.”  
“I agree. Should I let Eskel know before we all barge in?”  
“Probably. We need to finish getting everything ready anyway, we made a few potions so I don’t pass out trying to heal him.”  
Jaskier nodded and walked back to the room. He opened the door cautiously and saw that Eskel was still meditating. He placed a hand on his shoulder, and at that Eskel had him pressed against the wall, ready to attack. He relaxed when he saw Jaskier.  
“Yen and Triss are coming to see what they can do. They’ve been making potions for him.”  
“Good. Triss can only do so much with her magic, even though she’s by far the most skilled healing witch I’ve seen.”  
Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh?”  
“She’s who helped heal me.” Eskel sighed. “Without her, I’d be dead.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah.”  
They stood in silence for a minute before the door opened and Yennefer and Triss stepped through the doorway.  
“He needs to be awake.” Yennefer broke the silence and she and Triss began to put the potions down on the bedside table.  
“He was unconscious.”  
“Bard, you told us he was sleeping?!”  
“Same thing..?”  
Yennefer sighed, and shook Geralt’s good shoulder. He groaned and tried to move away from her. “Just sleeping then. Geralt, wake up.”  
“He won’t open his eyes. I think it gives him a headache.”  
Geralt hummed in agreement.  
“Okay, Geralt, we’re going to try and heal you, but first I have to check what’s wrong so I’m going to need you to try and sit up for me.” Triss said, walked over to him. “Eskel, Jaskier, would you tell Lambert and Aiden to get some cold rags for me?”  
Eskel nodded and left and Jaskier followed him. Geralt struggled to sit up, wincing as he pulled at his shoulder. Triss carefully helped him support his weight on the headboard, and while doing so she carefully took off the sling.  
“Witchers don’t know shit about first aid do they?”  
Geralt hummed in response.  
“I’m going to cut your shirt off so you don’t have to move your arm, please tell me if I hurt you.” Triss carefully took a knife and cut the shirt so she was able to see his shoulder properly. It was twisted and when Triss went to feel the area, Geralt whimpered in pain. “It feels dislocated, and I think you broke it when you fell, and it healed badly. I’m going to do all I can to reset it back but I don’t know if it's ever going to be like it was before.”  
“What?” Geralt croaked.  
“I’m sorry Geralt. But I think it's irreversible. It’s all inflamed and it's been this way for what, months? You broke your shoulder badly, and while I can try to use magic to fix it, I don’t know if it will be entirely successful. You’ll be able to move it, but your range of motion will be a lot smaller than you’re used to, and I can’t guarantee it will stop hurting.”  
“Fix it.”  
“Geralt. I don’t know if I can fix it entirely.”  
“What sort of witch are you if you can’t fix a broken shoulder?”  
“Geralt. It’s not her fault you don’t take care of yourself.” Yennefer interjected, then the realization dawned on her. “That’s your sword arm.”  
Geralt nodded, and looked down. “It is.”  
Triss sighed. “I’m going to try and reset it back in its place. This is going to hurt. Yen, give him something to bite down on so he doesn’t bite his tongue off.”  
Yennefer took a piece of Geralt’s shirt, rolled it up, and gave it to Geralt to put in his mouth. Geralt sighed and bit down on it. Triss put a hand on his shoulder and one on his back, and pushed. Geralt screamed as she pushed his arm back into its place. Even as she used her magic to help heal the area, he kept screaming. Tears fell down his face and the cloth fell out of his mouth as he continued to beg for them to stop. Triss removed her hands, closed her eyes, and began chanting in Elvish. Geralt reached for Yennefer, and as he screamed she held his good hand, ignoring how tight he was holding on. After several minutes, Triss stepped back, looking pale.  
“That’s the best I can do for it now. Yen, give him swallow while I take a look at his leg.” Geralt’s leg, like his arm, was twisted at the knee. His knee cap looked misformed and swollen, and Triss carefully felt the area, just as she had to treat his arm. His foot was turned out like a dancer’s, but his knee faced the front. It almost looked worse than his arm, and Triss wondered how he managed to survive the path with such an injury.  
“Geralt...I don’t know if I can fix this either.”  
Her only response was a strangled sob.  
“I’m going to try, but you have to hold still. Yen, give the cloth back to him. This is going to hurt.”  
Geralt bit back down on the cloth, and almost instantly screamed into it. The pain was almost worse than before, and after what felt like hours, Triss once again stepped away. It looked better, but Triss could tell it wasn’t ever going to return to how it was. It would be a miracle if he could walk without a cane again, and even then it was a big if.  
“Geralt…”  
He spit the cloth out. “Go.” He rasped, “just go.”


End file.
